Kisses
by Gelana
Summary: Self explanatory. Takes place after our intrepid duo's first off-screen kiss between series one and two.
1. Chapter 1

At first he had kissed her like she would break, until their hunger got the better of them and then he kissed her a bit more like she wanted him to, if not with abandon, with nobly-restrained ardor. Like a man should kiss a woman he longed for, but could not have. She heard nothing beyond their quiet groanings and the blood rushing in her ears. She felt like her heart might burst forth from her body, so loudly it thrummed in her chest. The first electric touch of his tongue to her own felt more intimate an act than any she had ever shared with another in her life. It had not felt like this when she had slipped away from the occasional Ripon or village dance for a snog and a cuddle. She thought to her time with Stephen, the older boy she thought she had loved when she was barely more than a child, but nothing they had done together felt anywhere near as special, as sacred as that kiss. She had pulled away from his mouth then and held him tightly as she blinked back tears, and shivered through the waves of ... of whatever it was that she was feeling. Because no words seemed adequate.

"Anna?"

She lifted her head and smiled at him, at the predictable concern in the tilt of his head, the way his knuckles grazed up and down her arms. She giggled, suddenly giddy. "You worry far too much, Mr. Bates."

He continued to look at her, face shadowed, unreadable. "Perhaps, you don't worry enough, Miss Smith," he said, his tone warm, nearly playful. It turned somber. "This isn't a path I should be leading you down. It isn't right to give in to ..."

"To what Mr. Bates? To what we both feel? To what is truer and more real than anything else I've ever known? And frankly, I'm insulted that you think I could be led anywhere." She ducked her head, grateful for the cover of darkness to hide her blush. She wanted to kiss him again. "If you didn't love me, that would be one thing, but we both feel this. It's strong and it's good. Can you tell me otherwise, Mr. Bates?"

He shook his head, and smiled, "I cannot."

She lifted herself as high as she could, balancing on her toes, and kissed him again, traced the curve of his cheek. She was fascinated by the roughness of his stubble and the softness of the skin beneath and at the corners of his eyes, the back of his neck.

"Anna, we walk a knife's edge," he whispered against her mouth. She kissed his chin and rested her heels back on the ground. She almost grinned when he ducked his head, stooping slightly.

"So for now, we act like ourselves, are mindful and respectful of our limitations and continue to behave as the consenting and well-intentioned adults that we are. That to me, seems to be the beginning and end of it." She clenched her jaw defiantly, almost daring him to argue with her logic and determination.

Instead of objecting she felt his hand trail down her arm. He wove his fingers through hers, and feathered a line of light kisses over her jaw, before capturing her mouth in a soft, lingering kiss that spoke volumes of his surrender. He was hers and she was his and really, in her mind, that was that.

They were both smiling when they pulled up short, gasping for air, who knew how long later. She kissed his throat and rested her head against his chest.

"It would seem then, that we have an understanding, Mr. Bates?"

The vibration of his laughter drew her nipples to points against the unyielding fabric of her corset and she shivered.

"Against my better judgement," he murmured into her hair. "And with the whole of my heart I shall say that, yes, Miss Smith, we have an understanding."

They held each other for a long time. It was he who finally suggested they return inside before the younger staff woke for the morning.

They had walked, hand in hand, over the moonlit path, back to the looming reality of their commitments of service. The Abbey was entirely dark. They crept through the servants' courtyard aware of every footstep, and how loud it all sounded to their ears, in that darkness. Then, suddenly, and to her delighted shock, her back was pushed against a wall and he was kissing her forehead, her jaw, her neck, and his hands were on her hips and sliding up her ribs, her back, and then cupping her cheeks. And her world narrowed to their bodies crushed tightly together, his hands holding her face with infinite tenderness, while he searched out her mouth with his own, and how willingly she would have yielded to anything he could have asked of her just then. She would have given him her very soul had he wanted it. But instead of asking anything, he softened his grip on her and pulled himself away after one last, chaste kiss.

"We should go in," he husked.

She nodded, swallowed, wide eyed, and finally speechless. Followed him, quietly through the downstairs to the servants stairwell. They climbed together until the landing that the men's and women's stairs branched off of. She squeezed his hand in the darkness and stood on her toes to kiss him softly goodnight. It was her favorite kiss of the evening, she decided, because it was almost like the seal of a covenant of sorts. It held their secret and promise of what was to come.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/n: This, like Musings, will likely be written out of order and may end up getting moved around. But I got tired of waiting to be inspired to write a kiss in between this one and the last one. So here we are.**

It was done.

Wide eyed and silent, she focused on little else beyond the thick band of his ring pressing against her fingers, and the gleaming circumference of her own as she rolled it with the tip of her thumb. She couldn't catch her breath.

He swung her around, laughed out loud and flashed his crooked teeth in an elated smile. As rare as it was, that grin was a sight dear to her heart.

The dark events unfolding at the big house — the flu and it's victims — encroached upon her thoughts and then dragged her back to Vera's death and the looming danger of the police investigation. She pushed it all from her mind and squeezed his fingers. "We have time before we need to be back to the bus stop, Mr. Bates," she whispered.

"We do," he rasped. "Did you have something in mind, Mrs. Bates?"

She stopped short and pulled his hand to her chest, held it over her heart and blinked back tears. "I was beginning to worry I would never hear those words directed at me."

When she recovered herself and cleared her throat, she ducked her chin over her shoulder, "It's terribly expensive, but there's a shop two streets over where a body can have their photograph taken."

He smiled and nodded enthusiastically. "I know the shop you mean, and I can think of no better way to spend my money."

"Our money; I brought a bit extra along that I've been saving for just the purpose."

He laced his gloved fingers in between hers and tugged her with him, setting off at a clip, that while uneven, was strong and proud. After a moment he began to hum absently.

He had wanted one of her alone, and she of him; the photographer suggested they take one in the daylight outside. They decided on another picture taken inside, Anna insisted he sit, and he had reluctantly agreed. She stood behind him one hand on his shoulder, the other teasing the hair at the back of his neck, until the photographer scowled and shook his head at them and told them to look at the camera and hold very still. The flash left their eyes watering, but neither of them seemed to care. Anna filled out the slip with their information, smiling with deep satisfaction as she wrote out Mr. &amp; Mrs. John Bates in her precise script. She told the proprietor of the shop that she would walk down on her day off to collect them after they were developed. She hadn't wished to risk any damage in the post.

They walked aimlessly for a bit in the rough direction of the bus stop once they were finished. Both were loathe to end their momentous outing. Anna glanced at her new husband several times as they walked along a bank of hedges, before pulling him behind one, into the sheltering arms of an overgrown willow tree.

She hadn't expected him to be quite as enthusiastic as he was, had half supposed he would argue with her that they must still be careful, that no one was supposed to know. Instead he had wrapped his arms around her, lifted her feet off the ground and pushed her back against the rough bark of the tree. He kissed her beneath the privacy afforded them by untamed bows and spring leaves like they were alone in the world, like he had only ever kissed her a few times before. She hadn't expected it, but met him with fervor, accepted and challenged every motion of tongue and lips, teeth and hands. She gasped at the guttural sound he made against her; he was pressed so tightly to her, she could feel it rumble through her torso, could feel his hardness against her thigh. And then he set her down with a strange look on his face and straightened her hat.

After tucking stray strands of hair, he tugged the cloth of her skirt and bodice and smoothed the mussed parts, and kissed her once more, with his usual barely-there-tenderness. She watched him mutely, trying to calm her desire, shocked at the animalistic need that left her nearly panting with want.

He had bent awkwardly, gamy leg out to retrieve his discarded hat and cane. He had tossed them aside (she felt a mad pull inside of her as the thought formed itself,) to kiss her and touch her like that. She didn't think she would ever want him to stop touching her like that.

"I'm sorry," he began. "I ..."

She interrupted him straightaway, "I'm not. Since when is it a crime to kiss your wife?"

"Still, I ..."

She'd thrown a look at him, one pointed enough to silence him. He frowned and scrubbed his palm over his mouth.

"Mr. Bates," she said in a tone that brooked no argument. Her face softening immediately. "It's my wedding day and if I wish to sneak a bit of a snog behind a tree with my husband, I shall."

She leaned close to him. "Don't you ever apologize for kissing me like that." She dropped her voice to a whisper, shocked them both when she stepped even closer to him and brazenly cupped his swollen sex through the fabric of his trousers. She burned at the feel of him in her hand.

"I've wanted you like this for so long, Mr. Bates."

He bucked once against her and moaned out loud, and she felt a sense of wonder at what her touch could do to him.

"Anna!" He hissed her name through gritted teeth, before stepping away from her searching hands.

They had needed to stay behind the tree while he regained his composure, which was not at first helped by the cheekiness of Anna's rather inappropriate suggestion that she would be more than pleased to help take the matter in hand. The peal of laughter she let out at his answering look of panic did in fact help, but only just.

"What?" she had asked innocently, then fell back into laughter, unable to contain her mirth.


End file.
